


Twenty Questions

by meeshiefeet



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Adult Language, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 17:01:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3700139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meeshiefeet/pseuds/meeshiefeet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carol and Daryl pass the time while on watch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twenty Questions

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Nine Lives Fluff-a-Palooza challenge. Set during the S3-S4 timeskip.
> 
> A/N: I seem to have trouble with two things lately: coming up with fluff and writing anything short enough to be a drabble (this is longer than I planned by about 5x). This fic is based on a headcanon I'd posted in the Operation Levity tag on tumblr a long time ago, where Carol and Daryl play 20 Questions, and Carol consistently guesses Daryl's answers quickly, while he never guesses hers... for reasons. ;) Hope you like it! Thanks for reading, and thanks to LiddyM2113 and Illusianation for beta-ing this one!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. All characters in this fic are very much not mine.

* * *

_The Rules_

 

He could tell she meant business. Her expression was stern, her jaw set like steel, and only the barest sparkle of mischief in her blue eyes belied her enjoyment of the situation.

"Okay," Carol said. "If we're gonna do this, then we need to establish the rules."

He'd given in. Two hours of pestering, cajoling, sweet smiles and batting eyelashes, and she'd finally figured out how to get him to do her bidding.

"Winner gets the loser's stash," she'd said low, as though there were any possibility of being overheard while they sat at the edge of the guard tower, legs dangling over the edge, leaning on the railings that were still warm from the late afternoon sun.

Daryl had played it cool, pretending to contemplate her wager for a long minute. He'd been enjoying this toying with her. Usually she was the one teasing him, but he'd thought had her right where he wanted her. Until she'd edged closer, her breath hot against his ear, and whispered, "You know you want what I've got."

_Want it?_  Good lord, he would have jumped off the tower right then and there if she'd said he could outright have it by doing so. He laughed to himself as he realized what a fool he was. She'd played him like a fiddle, and they both knew it. So he'd agreed. After all, her stash of chocolate was twice what he had hidden in his cell. As disciplined as he'd been at conserving it after they'd found the goods on a run a few weeks ago, she was better.

"Alright. What are the rules then?" he asked.

"We always used to play that the first question was 'Animal, vegetable, or mineral?' Then the rest were yes/no questions," she explained. "Is that how you did it?"

Daryl shrugged, glancing out to scan the woods before turning back to her.

"Here's your chance to practice, Daryl. You answer with a 'yes' or a 'no'. Not a shrug," she said.

"Never played," he said.

"What do you mean you never played?" she asked, her eyes wide with disbelief.

"Just never did," he said.

"Not even as a kid? With Merle?" she asked.

Daryl snorted. "Nah. Merle's favorite entertainment when we was kids was to hold me down and give me wet willies."

"Wet willies?"

"You know… lickin' your finger and stickin' it in someone's ear," he explained, a little shudder rolling through him as he did.

"Eww."

Carol's face scrunched up in disgust. Damn, she looked adorable. He studied her for a second, committing the crinkling of her nose to memory, then looked toward the trees again, searching for movement.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"I promise this is much more pleasant," she said.

"Get on with it, then," he said. "I got chocolate to win."

She rolled her eyes and explained the rest of the rules. "Maybe" was a permitted answer. No compound questions to try to cover multiple subjects. That was cheating. And absolutely no lying, though misleading through technicalities was encouraged. A good early question to ask was if it was bigger than a breadbox, that sort of thing. They'd each do a round, and whoever figured out the other's object in the least amount of questions won. If they tied, they'd do another round, and another, until there was a winner.

"Sounds easy enough," he said after she finished.

"Confident, then?" she winked. "Wanna guess first? Or answer?"

"Um, think I'll guess. Get the hang of it," he answered.

"Okay," she said. She stared up at some passing clouds, biting her lip as she thought of an object.

"Alright, I've got something. Remember the first question?" she asked.

He side-eyed her and she giggled. Maybe this game wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

 

_The Game Is Afoot_

 

"Animal, vegetable, or mineral?" he asked.

"Mineral. Nineteen left," she said.

"You gonna count down like that every time?" he asked.

"Yep. Eighteen left."

"Hey, that doesn't count!" he protested.

"It was a yes/no question. I can't help it you didn't ask about my thing. That's on you." She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows at him.

He stared back at her hard, then acquiesced. "Fine, have it your way, ya little cheater." His lip started to curl into a smile and he fought it off, not wanting to let on how much her competitive streak amused him.

"I don't have to cheat to win, Daryl. I'll do just fine. And since you're new to this, I'll give you that one. Nineteen left." She huffed and then quickly added, " _You're welcome_."

"Pffft, whatever," he said. He turned toward her, scrutinizing her still pouty face, searching for some clue to give him a leg up. Her comment had spurred his own competitive streak. This was war now, and it wasn't about the chocolate anymore. Now his pride was on the line.

"Is it somethin' you like?" he asked.

"Yes. Eighteen." Her face never flinched. He made a mental note to never play poker with her. She'd probably bluff him out of everything he owned, which wasn't a whole hell of a lot, but he figured he'd miss it.

"Do you have it here at the prison?"

"No. Seventeen left."

"Did you have it before all this? Before the turn?"

"Yes. Sixteen."

"Is it a coffeemaker?" he asked.

"No. Fifteen. And it's better to stay away from specific things too early or you waste questions," she said, her face softening slightly as she gave him the advice, unable to stop herself from helping him.

He stared her down again, trying to take advantage of the momentary weakness. Maybe she'd crack now that she was being nice.

"Alright. Was it something in your house?"

"Yes. Fourteen."

"In the kitchen?"

"No. Thirteen."

"Uh, your tv?" he asked.

"No. Twelve."

This game was harder than he thought. He took a break to scan the trees again, then leaned toward her, squinting in concentration as he tried to gauge her reactions to his questions.

"Is it bigger than a breadbox?" he asked.

"There you go! You should ask that sooner," she said, giving him a warm smile that made him lose his focus. "But no. Eleven."

He deflated. "This game's stupid."

He turned away and watched the woods again, half hoping for a herd to amble along and save him. The only movement to be seen was in the upper limbs of the trees, dancing in the warm breeze that picked up as the sun dropped toward the horizon.

"Think of the chocolate, Daryl," Carol said, leaning close. "All that sweet, rich goodness melting on your tongue. Isn't that worth a little bit of work?"

She was an inch away from him, so close he could feel her warm breath again even when she turned to watch the swaying treetops, too. "Can't you just  _taste_  it, Daryl?"

He shifted and cleared his throat, shaking his head. "Not gonna ruin my concentration, ya know."

She giggled again and sat back, and he wished he'd let her linger a little longer before calling her out.

"Still playing?" she asked.

"Yeah, okay."

He eyed her again, and she stared right back. She wasn't giving an inch, smirking at him as her eyes twinkled, knowing she was getting her way. He ran through her earlier answers in his head. It was smaller than a breadbox, mineral, in her house before the turn, she liked it, not a coffeemaker or tv. And she couldn't lie.

A question popped uninvited into his head and he blinked. He couldn't ask it, but he didn't turn away fast enough and she noticed the change in his face.

"Daryl?"

He chewed his lip, silently berating himself for even thinking it. They were having fun and he had to go and ruin it.

"It wasn't anything of hers," she said quietly. He nodded but couldn't bring himself to stop his internal monologue of scathing criticism.

Her fingers settled gently on his shoulder. "It's okay. You can talk about her," she said. When he finally managed to glance back at her, the smirk and twinkle were gone, but she didn't look sad like he'd expected. Her face showed concern instead. She lost her daughter and here she was making sure  _he_  was okay, which made him feel not okay at all. He should be looking out for her, not the other way around.

"That talkin' thing goes both ways, ya know," he said. "If you ever wanna."

She smiled at him then, making everything good again with a look. He never could figure out how she did that.

"I know. Thanks."

She gave his shoulder a squeeze and then pulled her hand away, staring out at the trees as they continued their graceful dance. They sat in silence for another minute before she spoke again.

"You need to ask a question, Daryl. That or forfeit your chocolate. All… that… chocolate," she dragged out the last words wistfully.

"No way in hell," he replied. "I'm gettin' all your sweets tonight."

She whipped her head toward him, holding back her laugh as long as she could, which was all of two seconds. He realized what he'd said and turned as red as the sky to their west, where the sun had finally given up it's hold on them and conceded to the stars that were beginning to show themselves.

"Why, Daryl Dixon… I had no idea you wanted my sweets so bad. All you had to do was ask," she said.

"Stop."

His cheeks blazed even hotter and he struggled to come up with a question before she could give him more grief. He thought it was a minor miracle when one came to him.

"Is it hard?" he asked.

"Mmmm, not yet, but like I said… all you have to do is ask."

_Some miracle._  He hid his face in his hands until she stopped giggling, finally taking pity on him and giving him the real answer.

"Yes. Ten left."

Ten questions. Halfway through this game and he was no closer to guessing than when they'd started. He'd managed to bring them to a screeching halt and she'd managed to embarrass him worse than he'd ever been embarrassed with her. Even more so than on top of the bus the first night at the prison. He was beginning to think it was impossible to figure anything out when it came to her.

He took a deep breath and kept guessing, her answers bringing him no closer to being right, until finally he was down to one.

"Is it… is it a cell phone?" he asked, hoping against hope his hail mary would hit the mark.

"Nope," she said, glowing with victory.

"What is it then?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm not telling. I think I'm just gonna keep this one to myself so I can use it on you again."

"But how am I s'posed to know you didn't cheat?" he asked.

She leaned her head against the railing, using her hand to cushion her temple as she looked at him. Her eyes were sincere, unfiltered, maybe even a little vulnerable. "You trust me, don't you?"

With his life. With… everything. Hell, even if he hadn't, he wouldn't have been able to resist her in that moment. It confounded him, the way she could simply look at him and he knew he was safe with her, how he could somehow tell her anything and she wouldn't even bat an eye, no matter how awful it might be. She'd always been that way with him, and he never understood why. She really did keep him guessing.

"Course I do," he said. He looked away again, half-convinced she might start reading his mind if they made eye contact any longer.

"It's your turn to think of something," she prodded.

He decided to stand up. It was safer. She couldn't watch his wheels turning while he thought of what to pick. He bit at his nails and then a thought occurred to him. She'd never get it.

"Alright. Ready," he said.

"Animal, vegetable or mineral?" she asked.

"Vegetable. Nineteen."

"Hmmm, okay. Is it something you like?" she said, a devilish look on her face when she repeated his question back to him. He narrowed his eyes at her in response, but that only made her laugh.

"Yep. Eighteen."

She lifted her head from her hand and looked around.

"Can I see it now?" she asked, glancing toward the trees.

"Nope. Seventeen." He smiled to himself. This was good. She wouldn't guess and they would have to start over again. A fresh slate. He paced a few steps away from her, waiting for the next question.

"Is it something you like to eat?"

"Nope. Sixteen."

"Is it a cigarette?"

"The hell?" he asked, spinning around to face her. "How'd you know that?"

"You never met a vegetable you wouldn't eat. And you were so fidgety… made me think of cigarettes. It was a guess, really," she said as she pulled herself up to stand, too.

"A damn good guess," he replied.

She smiled at him. "I just know you is all."

"Thought I knew you, too," he said, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Can't give away all my secrets. Where's the fun in that?" she said, giving him a quick wink. "Speaking of fun… you're paying up as soon as our shift is over."

"Double or nothin'," he said, desperate to keep his stash of candy.

"With what?" she asked. "You don't have any more chocolate to lose."

"Umm, lemme think," he racked his brain for something of value. "Got it! Winner gets the candy  _and_  loser has to tell Rick we saw Carl sneakin’ out of chores and kissin' that girl from Woodbury over by the other tower earlier."

"You're on."

* * *

 

_And the Winner Is…_

 

All his chocolate. Telling Rick about Carl starting to figure out the birds and the bees. Diaper duty the next time Carol watched Asskicker. First dibs on any canned fruit cocktail they found on future runs. And absolutely the worst of them all… swapping cells and sleeping in the one next to Glenn and Maggie for a week, like he didn't have a hard enough time tuning out their shenanigans from the other end of the block.

Carol owned his ass. He still hadn't guessed what she was thinking about, and she had yet to need more than seven questions for one of his rounds. She even got motor oil in five questions. At first he swore she was psychic. Then he just swore… a lot. It only seemed to entertain her more.

He needed something good this time. Something she would never figure out. That or he'd be supervising the next time Patrick manned the grill. He liked the kid and all, but the wide-eyed, toothy-grinned hero worship made him cringe. Kid needed a different role model.

Daryl lightly bit the tip of his tongue, trying to narrow his concentration. If he won this round, she'd walk away with the chocolate stash and everything else would be forgotten. Those were the agreed upon terms. She was being kind to him, giving him more than a fair shake. Normally that would bother him, but he was pretty certain her generosity wouldn't make a lick of difference in the long run. He'd never come up with an answer that might stump her.

He stepped back and propped himself against the wall behind him. It gave him a chance to study her while she watched for any sign of danger beyond the prison. She stood at the railing, stretching her arms above her head after slowly scanning the treeline. He watched as she tilted her head toward one shoulder, gently pulling it down to stretch out the tight muscles, then switched sides toward her other shoulder. Jesus, she was graceful even doing something as simple as stretching.

His gaze settled on her ear, right where it met her neck. He couldn't see it clearly in the darkness that had fallen, the thin sliver of a moon intermittently hiding behind some gathering clouds, but he pictured the curve of her earlobe perfectly, reconstructed from the memory of a thousand stolen glances. He could even imagine the tiny birthmark on her neck just below it. It had drawn his eye earlier in the day when he followed her to the tower for their shift. Suddenly the only questions in his head centered on the nape of her neck. Was is salty from the earlier heat? Warm like his lips, or would the hint of pink left from the afternoon sun have made it slightly warmer?

He was still considering this when she turned around and stared him down, her face equally smug and amused.

"Come up with anything yet, Dixon? It's your last chance. Gotta make it count."

He wasn't one to dwell on thoughts like the ones in his head and he blinked back to reality, wondering why he had let himself now. Was it her teasing earlier? All he had to do was ask? She hadn't been serious. She never was. Merle's favorite form of entertainment had been messing with him, just like Carol's was now. Both of them made him feel uncomfortable; the difference with her being that his discomfort was… comforting. But right now her changing expression was anything but comfortable. He could see the wheels turning in her head, starting to gather up the pieces, and he needed to interrupt her before she put them together and figured out what had been on his mind.

"Uhh, yeah," he lied. "It's good. You ain't gonna guess it."

"We'll see about that," she said, her face shifting to a look of determination. Relief washed over him until her tongue flicked out, licking her lips, and he forgot what he was relieved about. They looked so shiny, so-

"Animal, vegetable, or mineral?"

_Fuck. Think of something, asshole._ He tried, but his brain locked on to an image of her mouth against his.

"Daryl?" she prodded.

"Animal. Nineteen." It was how he was feeling. Might as well pick it. Hell, might as well choose a kiss as his answer. Not like she would ever-

_Well, damn._

His confidence grew by the second. The one thing she would never guess. He was gonna win this.

"Squirrel," she said confidently.

"Nope. Eighteen."

Her face fell. He smirked at her, finally feeling like he had the upper hand. "Better to start with general questions. Least that's what I hear," he teased.

"I wouldn't get too cocky just yet," she said assuredly, regaining her own confidence. "Is it bigger than a breadbox?"

The question threw him. How would you even measure that? Whole people or just the parts in use or what? His eyes drifted to her mouth again. "Uhhhh. No?" he answered.

Her eyes narrowed. "Gotta be sure about your answers, mister."

"No. Definitely no. Seventeen," he said, forcing himself to look her in the eye again.

"Alright," she said. She considered him for a moment. "Is it an actual animal?"

"No. Sixteen." She was good. His answer was better, though. He was sure of it.

"Well, that's good to know. Hmmm," she said. "Was it ever an actual animal? Like a leather belt would have been a cow at some point, I mean."

"Nope. Fifteen."

She tilted her head, watching him closely as she asked the next question. "Is it an action of some sort?"

"Yep. Fourteen left," he answered, proud of maintaining a perfect poker face.

"Something  _people_  do?"

"Yeah. Thirteen."

"Something you do?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Something he did? Well, he had. Not often. Not for a long time. That was before, though. This was now. It wasn't like he'd ever made it a habit. Then again, it wasn't like he thought he'd never do it again. He thought about doing it a little more than was probably smart. Did that count?

"Maybe? Um, twelve." he said uncertainly.

"Maybe. You  _maybe_  do it? You don't know?" she asked, incredulous.

"Maybe."

"I'm starting to think you're cheating," she huffed.

"Not cheatin'. Just… that was… complicated." He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking past her to the trees, scanning the horizon.

"Okay, I'll give you  _maybe_. Plenty of questions left." She stepped in front of him, blocking his view, getting a little closer than was comfortable. "Is it something you like?"

"Tryin' to intimidate me or somethin'?" he asked, hoping his false bravado would make her back off a little.

"I'm asking the questions here," she answered, stepping closer. He should have known his tactic would backfire. Everything usually did when it came to her.

"Fine. Ask."

"I  _did_ ," she said, crossing her arms impatiently. "Is it something you like?"

"Oh, right. Uh. Yeah, I guess I do. Eleven."

"Hmmm. You maybe do it and you guess you like it. I'm not sure I like your level of specificity here," she said.

He shrugged. "Maybe you're just upset you're not doin' so well this time."

"I'll figure it out."

"If you say so. Got a question for me?" he asked.

"As a matter of fact, I do. Is it something you do by yourself?" she asked.

"No. Ten."

"Hmmm. Guess it's not hunting then… or  _other_  things."

She winked and paced away from him, letting him breathe a little easier. He thought he had the advantage this time, but she always seemed to snatch it away when she was so close. Still, they were halfway through and she was getting frustrated. Frustrated enough to drop her teasing before she'd even really started it. It was a good sign.

Carol turned and leaned back against the railing, chewing her bottom lip while she glanced sideways at him. "Is it something you've done since the turn?"

"No. Nine left," he said.

"Is it possible? To do it now, that is."

"Yeah. Eight."

She pushed off the railing and walked toward him again, a smile slowly gracing her face. He starting to shift a little with nervousness as she closed in. Why was she suddenly smiling?

"Is it something you would do with me?" she asked as she stopped directly in front of him. He swallowed hard, trying to keep his cool.

"Maybe."

_Shit. Maybe?_ Who was he kidding? Maybe was a lie. Which was cheating. Which he would never do. He wanted to win this fair and square.

He cleared his throat and corrected himself. "I mean… uh. Yeah."

She blinked in surprise. Whatever she'd been thinking, he'd just given her a huge clue she was on the wrong path.

"Okay then. Leaves me with seven questions, right?" she asked, scrutinizing his face. He fought it, but felt a rush of warmth wash over his cheeks as he nodded. She opened her mouth to ask another question, but stopped herself, shaking her head slightly. Then she jumped back into the fray with rapid-fire questions.

"Would we need weapons?" she asked.

"Weapons? No. Six."

"Tools?"

"Nope. Five."

"Would you do this with anyone else, Daryl?"

"No!"

She'd caught him off-guard, throwing that last question in there so quickly after the others. It was a sure bet she'd already known the answer to the ones before it, using them to lull him into a false sense of security, manipulating him into an honest reaction to the last one. He was just beginning to feel like he might pull this off, and suddenly the long game she was playing started to become clear.

"Is it something we could do right here?" she asked.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and back again. "Yeah. Three, I think."

She leaned in, the space between them dwindling to inches. He started to back away but hit the wall behind him, which turned out to be a good thing, because he thought he might start shaking any minute. He braced himself against the concrete.

"Does it involve," she glanced at his mouth, then back up at him, "…physical contact?" she asked.

He was screwed. She knew. And not only did she know, she was teasing him. Again. He felt a familiar flush of heat in his cheeks and looked over her shoulder, staring at the woods beyond the prison, beginning to wish he were outside the fences where it was safer.

"Just say yes, Daryl," she whispered.

His eyes snapped back to her. He'd thought she was mocking him, but she wasn't laughing. Wasn't smirking at him. Her face reflected the same openness and warmth it had when she'd asked him if he trusted her.

"Yes," he said softly.

"Two questions left then," she said.

He nodded.

"Earlier I said all you had to do was ask." She paused, taking a shallow breath. "Are you asking?"

Was he? Could he even dare? Yeah, he thought about it. Too often. But to actually…. His eyes drifted downward to her mouth. He felt her fingers lightly graze his forearm, watched her lips part slightly in anticipation. He wasn't sure what came over him, but he heard himself give voice to what he'd been wishing for since… hell, he didn't even know how long. Long enough.

"Yeah."

Her hand moved to his cheek and she tilted her face upward toward his. He closed his eyes and froze, still trying to convince himself this couldn't possibly be happening, until he felt her lips meet his. Warm, and soft, and moving against his until they were too quickly gone. He reached out, wrapping his hand behind her neck and gently pulling her back to him. She kissed him again, teasing at his lips with her tongue, pressing herself against him when he responded in kind. She tasted better than chocolate. Better than anything he'd ever tasted.

He felt the breeze kick up around them, heard it rustle through the trees. The cool air drifted across his lips as she broke away from him, her scent lost to one of impending rain. He opened his eyes and looked down at hers, half-afraid he'd see she was laughing at him after all, but she was still sincere and honest, still warm and supportive and safe. Still Carol.

She smiled up at him. "Last question… did I win?"

He couldn't help but smile back at her. Apparently she was still competitive, too.

"Yeah, you did," he admitted.

They heard footsteps clanging on metal from below, the telltale indicator of someone climbing the tower stairs, and Carol stepped back, putting some space between them again. A few seconds later the upper door opened.

"Sorry we're probably late," Rick mumbled as he and Michonne stepped through the doorway. "Judith was having a hard time with that tooth that's coming in. It was a rough go to get her back down for the night."

"Woke up the whole block. Probably D-block, too," Michonne added.

"It's okay," Carol said, smiling. "We were just finishing up a little game."

"Game of what?" Rick asked.

"20 Questions," Carol answered.

"Oh my god. You didn't… did you?" Michonne asked, looking directly at Carol, who nodded. "What kind of haul did you get?"

"Soooooo much," Carol said, bouncing slightly with her giddiness.

"How'd you know she won?" Daryl asked a little defensively. Rick didn't say anything, but his expression was asking the same question.

Michonne laughed. "Because her answer with newbies is always the same, and if you figured it out, you wouldn't be standing here talking 'bout it. You'd have hauled ass out that door as soon as we opened it."

Rick and Daryl looked at each other, then back at Michonne and Carol, who both struggled to hold back their laughter.

"What's so funny?" Daryl asked, a look of panic starting to cross his face.

"Knowing  _innocent_  little Carol here kicked your ass because there's no way in hell you'd guess her vibrator," Michonne answered.

Vibrator? He looked at Carol in shock, but she shrugged and smiled while Michonne burst out laughing again. Daryl was thankful it was dark, because he knew he was blushing from head to toe. He glanced toward Michonne again, hoping she’d admit she just made that up as some sort of joke, but she nodded her head at him, still laughing at his stunned expression.

"Told you a girl's gotta have her secrets," Carol said as she ambled toward the doorway. "I believe you owe me some chocolate, Dixon. Let's go."

Daryl bolted after her toward the door, happy for a reason to get the hell out of there and away from witnesses to his growing embarrassment.

"Guess she did a number on you," Rick chuckled, slapping him on his shoulder as he passed.

"You have no idea," he answered, then halted. "Oh, and Rick…"

"Yeah?"

Daryl paused. He was about to tell Rick about Carl, but the last few minutes alone with Carol made him reconsider. He thought he might give the kid a day or two to enjoy the memory before he was grounded.

"Uh, we might want to shore up the fences on the southeast corner. They're looking a little worse for wear," Daryl muttered.

"Alright, I'll get Tyreese on 'em in the morning," Rick answered.

Daryl nodded and darted down the stairs, taking them two at a time, trying to catch up to Carol. He found her in his cell, rummaging through his stuff, looking for her prize.

"What the… knock it off already. It's right here," he said, walking past her and pulling his pillow off the mattress. He stripped the pillowcase off and slipped his fingers into a rip along the seam, pulling out his bag of candy.

"I'd have found that eventually, you know," she said.

"No doubt," he replied. He sank down on his mattress, running his hand through his hair.

"Nuh-uh," she said.

He looked up at her, puzzled.

"We're swapping cells, remember? Out."

She pointed at the open cell door. Daryl sighed, but stood and started for the door.

"Wait a minute," she said. He turned to see her open the bag. She pulled out a piece of chocolate and slipped it in his palm, closing his fingers around it. Her hand lingered on his. "That last round was so close. You deserve some sort of consolation prize."

He considered the chocolate for a few seconds, then slid it back into her hand, making her brow crease slightly with confusion.

“Think you took care of that already,” he said, lightly squeezing her fingers in his. She relaxed, a smile crossing her face as she glanced down quickly and then back up with him, her face glowing in the low light inside the prison walls. He turned on his heel and headed down the walkway to make the best of his sleeping arrangements, not that he’d likely be sleeping much anyway. Couldn’t even blame Glenn and Maggie for that, only the low buzzing that had been rumbling in his chest since her kiss.

Losing never felt so good.


End file.
